Post KotOR 2 Intro
by Summerfirefox
Summary: The Exile travels aimlessly after the events which occurred on Malachore V and her companions depart, finding their own paths. More and more she finds the fine line between light and dark to be blurred... AttonXExile Other couples later on maybe.


"_Reach out with your mind...hear the echoes of Nar Shadaa and listen to the rhythmic sound of the life here. This will make you keen and alert which is always an asset for any Jedi or Sith._" Clearing my mind, I felt the force flowing through all the life here, though most of them could not sense it, I could feel the desperation and anger of Nar Shadaa. It was teaming with fears and greed and a lust for power almost as strong as the stench that plagued my nostrils each time I breathed in.

Kreia had taught me a lot, to use the force as a tool, a weapon and bend it to my will as much as I can even though she hated the force for that very reason- the force almost had a life of its own, not ever able to be fully harnessed. The remnants of her teachings, her voice reaching out to me and showing me the force in a way I had never seen before or had long since forgotten, lingered on my mind, echoed through my very being. It was not that surprising though, considering the events that had occurred not too long ago at Malachor V...I had discovered her true identity as being Darth Traya, one who had learned of betrayal and used it to her advantage. She had betrayed me, betrayed my trust; and in the end I watched her die, right as Malachor V was crushed once again by Bao-Dur's ingenius device, the shadow generator; previously used at the end of the Mandalorian wars. Over the weeks, I recounted all of the events that led me to this point over a million times in my head, and yet, I still felt lost, as though something I had once held dear had collapsed along with the rest of that already desolate planet. Coiling with the intensity of all these thoughts, I picked up my pace and strode up to the nearest vendor- a rugged man with a slender frame and make-shift clothes hanging noticeably off his frame- who sheepishly grinned at me as I approached him. Quickly, I gathered up the cheap but acceptable repair parts that were needed for the ship and placed the payment into the man's worn, filthy, eager palms and stubby fingers and departed back to the dock where the Ebon Hawk was waiting.

The Ebon Hawk with its rusted, durasteel plating had once been just a stolen ship, a means of escape, but now...now as I gazed upon the metal which was dully lit by the navcomputer. It was home, a home where I never actually had to have a home; I could always be moving. Kreia had once used the Ebon Hawk in one of our lessons on the force: how everything had a life of its own, the residents walking inside it, the humming of the hyperdrive, the whirring of T3-M4 as he made repairs around the ship- all these background noises now seemed amplified, except for the absence of any residents besides myself. The silence seemed to taunt me with this fact, pointing out how I was once again alone and in my own way, exiled. My eyes wandered over the controls of the cockpit, and the empty pilot's seat. Leaning against the cool steel, I began closing my eyes and remembering tousled dark, brown hair and those dark eyes that often I would find were luring me closer to him just as he began pushing me away to a safe distance. So many times I became entranced in those obsidian eyes, daring me to let him take me over, melt away in his arms and as soon as I felt myself succumb is when abruptly I would tear myself away or he would avert his gaze and instead we would let the silence linger between us. The emptiness left behind by him was almost as deafening, if not more, than the silence itself; it was unbearable and agonizing and it frightened me. I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to the navcomputer, punching in the coordinates for Korriban.

Just as I did so, I winced in pain as I realized what I had lost that had once been my only source of comfort: my faith, my confidence, and my identity.

I slid into the pilot's seat and clutched the controls as I fought the urge to cry.


End file.
